by David Mack
Then his bravado faded, and he felt an overpowering desire to hide someplace dark and have a drink … or two … or six.
“Computer, halt turbolift,” he said. “New destination: the Riding Club, on the double.”
* * *
Riker was about to walk into Erika Hernandez’s guest quarters unannounced, until he remembered his earlier faux pas and stopped at the private comm panel. He pressed the visitor signal and waited until Hernandez responded from inside, “Come in.”
The door shushed open, and he walked in to find Hernandez sitting on the floor behind her living area’s coffee table, whose top was covered from edge to edge with nearly a dozen plates of food and several beverages both hot and cold.
He admired her one-woman feast. “I’m glad to see someone likes the food on this ship.”
She returned his jovial look and said, “It took a while, but I found a few things your replicator actually makes well. Since the Caeliar won’t make any of these in Axion, I figured I’d better enjoy them while I can.” She speared a hearty chunk of light-colored meat dressed with rich brown gravy. “Care for a bite of the milk-braised pork loin? The sauce is fantastic.”
“No, thanks,” he said, watching her devour the forkful and then swoon with gustatory ecstasy. “I’m saving my appetite for dinner with Deanna.” Lifting his chin toward her expansive repast, he added, “Do you want to take some of that to go?”
She swallowed and said, “I guess that means your away team is on its way back?”
Riker nodded. “Commander Hachesa just confirmed the Mance is on its final approach.”
“Then I’d better get ready to go,” Hernandez said. She grabbed a glass with a wide, shallow body atop a narrow stem and downed half its pale chartreuse contents in a long draught. She smacked her lips and let out a satisfied gasp. “It’s not quite right with synthehol, but it’s still the best margarita I’ve had in eight hundred years.” She set down the glass and stood up.
“Before you go, I want to thank you,” Riker said. “I don’t know what you told the Caeliar or what you promised them, but however you did it, thank you for helping free my people.”
She looked embarrassed by his gratitude. “It was the least I could do,” she said. “It’s what I wished someone could have done for my crew.” Turning her gaze toward the floor, she added, “But what’s done is done, I guess.”
He empathized with her sense of loss and her guilt, and his gut impulse was to change the topic. “Will you be coming back?”
“I don’t know,” she said, stepping out from behind the coffee table to join him in the middle of the room. “There’s a lot to do once I get back to Axion. Convincing them to come out of hiding was only the first step. Now that they’re here, they might not like what I have to say.”
The apprehension in her voice stoked his concern for her. “Is it safe for you to go back?”
“Of course,” she said. “They won’t hurt me.”
“But will they take you prisoner again? If you go back, will they ever let you leave?”
A shadow of melancholy settled upon her. “I don’t know,” she said. “But to be honest, that’s the least of our worries.”
“True,” Riker said. “Can you even guess at what the Caeliar will say about helping us stop the Borg?”
“No, I can’t. I know they won’t help the Borg hurt us, but beyond that, it gets complicated. The Caeliar prefer to stay out of other people’s business, but now that I’ve shown them their own link to this mess, they might take responsibility for it. Or they might not. For all I know, they might hear me out and choose to stay neutral.”
Riker frowned. “In which case, we’re all pretty much dead.”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
A few meters behind Hernandez, there was a rippling effect in the air, like heat distortion. It blurred the image of the bedroom behind it, and within seconds, it was like looking at something through a deep pool of water. The shimmer took on a metallic quality, like a hovering vertical puddle of mercury. Then the effect stabilized, and Riker saw himself and Hernandez reflected on its serene, silvery surface.
Hernandez looked over her shoulder as if she were being called by a voice that only she could hear. She sighed and looked back at Riker. “Time for me to go,” she said, favoring him with a coy glance. She turned and walked toward the liquid-metal oval that hovered a few centimeters above the deck, and she stopped in front of it and looked back. “Before I leave, I ought to thank you, too,” she said. “Fifteen hours ago, you didn’t know me, and you had no reason to trust me. But you did. Because of you, I got to be free again, even if just for a moment. Thank you for taking a chance on me.”
He smiled with sincere admiration and affection. “You’re welcome,” he said.
She lingered a moment, and then she turned and stepped forward, passing through the quicksilver membrane without so much as a ripple. As soon as she had vanished into it, the liquid portal faded into vapor.
Riker stood and stared at the empty space in front of him, and he was startled as Commander Hachesa’s voice crackled over the comm, “Bridge to Captain Riker.”
“Go ahead.”
“The deck officer in Shuttlebay One reports the Mance is aboard, and all away team personnel are safe and accounted for.”
“Acknowledged,” Riker said, jogging toward the door to the corridor. “Riker out!” He was through the door, and as soon as he was in the corridor, he broke into a full-out sprint for the turbo-lift. Enlisted crewmembers and junior officers froze in his path ahead of him, caught by surprise. “Make a hole!” he shouted, and everyone reacted by reflex, pressing their backs to the bulkheads as he tore down the middle of the passageway.
He knew that it was unseemly for him to be seen running like this, to be so loud and so frantic in front of his crew, but he didn’t care. His Imzadi was home, and she was safe—he could feel it.
Decorum be damned, he decided, and surrendered to his joy.
* * *
La Forge stood in front of the forward-facing windows in the Enterprise’s crew lounge, which Will Riker had named the Happy Bottom Riding Club before he left to take command of Titan. Riker had said he’d chosen the name as an homage to a famous social club for aviators and early Earth astronauts, but La Forge suspected his real intention had been to annoy Worf.
The vodka tonic in La Forge’s hand had become diluted as its ice cubes melted, but it hardly mattered, since the beverage had been made with synthehol.
He’d taken only a few sips from it in the half hour since he’d come from the captain’s quarters, because his attention had been fixed on the massive Caeliar city-ship looming in space before the Enterprise, the Aventine, and Titan. The alien metropolis was kilometers wide and breathtaking in its elegance. It was packed with slender towers, sloping and curved structures that evoked waves and aquatic themes, and sky bridges that, from a distance, looked like gossamer filaments.
Behind him, the Riding Club was much less busy than usual. Most of the ship’s crew was on duty or on a much-needed rest cycle, as repairs overlapped with preparations for the imminent confrontation with the Borg armada. Tensions were high. La Forge knew that he ought to be in main engineering, supervising the dozens of major projects currently under way, but he was confident that Taurik had matters well in hand.
The scent of fresh prune juice and the thump of deliberate footfalls alerted him to Worf’s approach, and he looked for the Klingon first officer’s reflection in the window. Worf had approached from directly behind La Forge and had revealed himself only with his last few steps. La Forge continued to face forward as Worf settled to a halt on his left.
“I guess you’ve spoken to the captain,” La Forge said.
“I have.” Worf sipped his prune juice.
La Forge looked at his drink. “Am I under arrest?”
“No,” Worf said. “You are not.”
He didn’t elaborate, which worried La Forge.
“So what
happens next?”
“The captain has rescinded his order.”
That caught La Forge off-guard. He turned and looked at Worf. “Rescinded? Because of what I said?”
“Yes,” Worf said, staring straight ahead into space.
“And he sent you down here to tell me that?”
“No. I came of my own accord. To thank you.”
Recoiling in mild surprise, La Forge asked, “For what?”
“For saying what I should have said,” Worf replied. “I feel as you do. Making such a weapon is a risk, and it would be an insult to Data’s sacrifice.” He clenched his jaw and huffed angrily. “I did not wish to confront the captain. But I should have.” He turned his head and met La Forge’s stare. “It takes courage to challenge authority on a matter of principle. What you did—for yourself and Data—was an act of great honor.”
La Forge bowed his head and said, “Thank you.” He looked up and out at the Caeliar city-ship. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“It is … large,” Worf said.
“When I first saw it, I’d thought about asking the captain permission for a visit,” La Forge said. “Just to see what makes it tick, y’know? And then I wondered what Data would think of it … and suddenly, I didn’t want to go anymore. Not because the city wasn’t interesting, but because I knew that every time I saw something new, I’d want to turn and tell Data about it—and then I’d have to remember he’s gone.”
Worf regarded the Caeliar metropolis with a somber look. “I understand,” he said. “I, too, often wish that Data were still alive. Usually in the morning, when Spot wishes to be fed.”
La Forge chuckled, recalling Worf’s pained expression when he’d learned that Data’s last will and testament had named the Klingon as the guardian of his pet. “How’s the cat doing?”
“Spot is well—and his claws are sharp,” Worf said with a prideful gleam. Then he softened his expression and clasped La Forge’s shoulder in a friendly grip. “Data is gone, and it is not wrong for us to mourn him. But we must not cling too tightly to the past. We are still alive, Geordi, and we have each other. Perhaps that will be enough.”
Nodding, La Forge said, “It’s everything, Worf. Thanks.”
Worf dipped his chin and removed his hand from La Forge’s shoulder. The silence between them was calm and comfortable, and La Forge felt no need to disturb it. It was enough to stand next to his old friend, watching the stars and waiting to see what the future would bring.
27
One scan after another yielded nothing but good news.
“It’s truly remarkable, Captain,” Dr. Ree said to Riker, who stood with him in Titan’s sickbay, on the other side of the biobed, holding Troi’s hand. Gesturing toward the vital-signs monitor above her head, the reptilian physician continued, “All of Deanna’s readings are optimal, across the board. There’s no sign of damage in the uterine wall and no abnormalities in the fetus.”
Troi reclined on the biobed, her face beaming with joy as she looked at Riker. “She’s okay, Will,” Troi said. “Our daughter is okay.” Tears rolled from her eyes.
Riker, still reeling from the revelation of his wife’s recovery, asked Ree, “This is the Caeliar’s work?”
“Yes, sir. And I’ve only told you part of the good news.” He called up a new screen of information on the overhead display. “In addition to healing Deanna and her child, the Caeliar saw fit to restore all of her unreleased ova as well. Which means that if the two of you so desire, there’s no reason you couldn’t have more than one child.”
Riker asked, “What about the risk of miscarriage?”
“I’m happy to report that’s no longer an issue,” Ree said. “Your complications were genetic in nature, and the Caeliar have amended that—quite ably, I might add. They’ve also rejuvenated much of Deanna’s internal physiology.”
It was Troi’s turn to react with surprise. She sat up quickly as she said, “Rejuvenated?”
“Yes, my dear counselor,” Ree said. “Inyx reversed much of the age-related deterioration in your tissues and organs. If one were to judge your age based solely on an internal scan, you would register as a woman of thirty, in the prime of your life.”
A giddy smile brightened her face as she looked at Riker and said, “I guess that explains why I feel so amazing.”
“Guess so,” Riker said, mirroring her happiness. He looked at Ree and asked with intense interest, “How did they do it? Genetic therapy? Nanosurgery?”
Ree cocked his head sideways and tasted the air with a flick of his tongue. “I have absolutely no idea,” he said. “Deanna’s treatment was performed in secret. If I seem impressed by Inyx’s amazing results, I’m positively stunned by the fact that he left no discernible trace of how he did it.” He switched off the biobed, and the overhead screen went dark. “If you want, I can keep running tests to see if I can uncover his methods, but I doubt I’ll find anything.”
“Don’t bother,” Riker said, helping Troi to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “We’ve had enough tests.”
“I quite agree,” Ree said, empathizing with the suffering Riker and Troi had endured over the past several months, from the invasive rigors of fertility therapy to the heartbreak of a miscarriage and the close call of a second failed pregnancy. “My prescription for the two of you is simply this: Go spend some time alone, and assuming the universe doesn’t come to a fiery end tomorrow, come back next month for a routine prenatal exam—with an emphasis on routine.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Troi said, wrapping her arm around Riker’s waist. “For everything—including biting me.”
“You’re welcome,” Ree said.
Riker did a double-take. “He bit you?”
“Let’s go,” Troi said, cajoling Riker gently as she pulled him out of sickbay. “I’ll tell you all about it … in private.”
* * *
Will Riker’s relief was so profound, the burden that had been lifted so ponderous, that he felt breathless, as if he’d gone from the pit of the sea to the peak of a mountaintop.
His Imzadi was home and healed.
Their child was safe.
The future was theirs again, something to look forward to instead of fear. They’d stepped to the precipice, faced the fathomless darkness, and come back whole.
He and Deanna stood in the main room of their quarters on Titan and held each other. The fragrance of her hair, the warmth of her body, and her empathic radiance of well-being combined in his senses to mean one thing: home.
She hugged him with greater vigor and pressed her face to his chest. “You don’t need to say it,” she said, reacting to his unspoken, still-forming thoughts and confirming for him that their telepathic bond was as strong as it had ever been.
“Yes, I do,” he said. “You know I do.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m so sorry I left you. I didn’t want to.”
“I know,” she said, reaching up to stroke his cheek.
“Please forgive me,” he said.
Deanna pressed her palms softly on his cheeks and pulled his face to hers. She planted a delicate kiss on his lips and another on the tip of his nose. “I forgive you,” she said. “It was a terrible choice. I’m sorry you had to make it.”
Clasping her hands in his own, he felt the sincerity of her forgiveness and the intensity of her elation. Lost in a giddy haze, he asked, “Are you hungry?”
“Not at all,” she said, shaking her head and smiling.
“Neither am I,” he said, and they laughed for a moment. It was goofy laughter, like an unmotivated overflow of joy.
In a blink, Deanna’s mood turned bittersweet, and tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said.
“For …?”
“For supporting me when we argued with Dr. Ree a few days ago. I know you disagreed with my decision, for all the right reasons, but in sickbay, you always took my side. You trusted me.”
“I believed in you,” he said, looking with wonder at the amazing
woman who had deigned to spend her life with him. “And, as always, my faith in you has been richly rewarded.”
She relaxed back into his arms, and he was glad to support her weight. It had been months since they’d felt this close, this in tune with each other, and he found it deeply gratifying to feel wanted—and needed—again.
“After everything,” Deanna said, “I still can’t believe it’s finally happening for us. A family, Will. Children. We can even have more than one if we want.”
“If I didn’t know it was thanks to science, I’d call it a miracle,” he replied.
Deanna reacted with a sigh and a look of concerned dismay. “Now all we have to fear is the Borg,” she said. Riker tried to think of some way to defuse her anxiety, but he was at a loss, because he knew she was right. She continued, “We’re so close, Will. So close to living the life we’ve always wanted, and now we’re hours away from the biggest confrontation with the Borg we’ve ever seen. We’ve fought so hard for this child, for us, for a second chance. I can’t stand the thought of seeing it taken away.” She implored him as much with her gaze as with her words, “Please tell me we have a plan, Will. Please.”
“I know Captain Hernandez does,” he said. “And Jean-Luc might be cooking up one of his own. So, yes, there is a plan.”
“Okay, so they have plans,” she said. “What about us? What are we going to do?”
Riker shrugged, glib humor his defense of last resort. “The same thing we always do,” he said. “The impossible.”
* * *
Ranul Keru found Torvig—with guidance from Titan’s main computer—in a remote, hard-to-reach forward compartment located just above the main deflector dish. The young Choblik engineer stood on a narrow catwalk and gazed through a broad sliver of a viewport. He turned his ovine head in Keru’s direction as the tall, brawny Trill approached him. Light from the surrounding machinery glinted off Torvig’s metallic eyes and cybernetic enhancements. For once, the normally loquacious young ensign remained silent and resumed staring out into space.